#it's time for that springtime sadness

[yaoyuandaydream]

how can quiet feel so heavy when it's so easy

[kurisus]

Chapter 104 thoughts

I'm back from posting purgatory and have rewritten, more or less, what Tumblr deleted, so now it's time for my favorite game: Ina Tries To Figure Out What The Fuck Happened In The Latest Noragami Chapter. Spoilers under the cut.

So at the beginning we see trash dad cut himself free from Fujisaki and revert to his original form, while Fujisaki wakes up in Yukine's old house, far from home. I'm really interested to see how much he knows, which I said last time--whether he was aware he was being used or if he's basically been unconscious for the past year. I think he has to be aware on some level, because he knows Father's true name and has to invoke it to summon him from Yomi, but it would also be funny if he flies into a panic, follows the newly created lake, and ends up with the main cast. How far are they from the house, anyway?

Come to think of it, I've been reading Alive since last month (Adachitoka's first manga, which was written by their mentor while they drew the art) and while I'm not done yet, the north of Japan features prominently as a setting for that story and as the final showdown for this one. I'm not sure why, maybe they're from there, but it's interesting.

I'm so glad Yato slammed into trash dad after he insulted Mizuchi. It shows he does recognize her as a victim, and is willing to let things mend between them, since she's had her own character arc since Yato released her name. Don't get me wrong, that was still the right choice for him at the time--but they've both changed since then. And I always love the character development in this manga so this had me bouncing in my seat.

YATO ALSO SAYING HE'S NOTHING BUT A DEAD PERSON LIKE YESSSSSS GET HIM GET HIM KILL HIS MISERABLE ASS

Ahem. I wish Yato had been able to land at least one punch on this horrible man, but it's time for a shounen powerup.

Using the koto no ha on himself grants trash dad access to Izanami/Izanagi level powers, which I think is a temporary powerup that will end with Izanami taking him back to Yomi, because of how he can "feel her breath" on his neck. He plans to then escape again, and possess another body.

This new power is an ass pull as fast-moon put it, but it's also not the first of its kind in Noragami. Think back to Yukine getting cut in half and becoming a hafuri, Amaterasu appearing out of nowhere to give Hiyori the hint that saved Yato's life in Yomi, and how the main characters were saved from the covenant which provided the entire basis for the current arc (due to unresolved tensions between them and the rest of heaven). Basically, in Noragami these things happen with good reason and/or hugely impact the rest of the story, so I think it's best to wait and see how this trash dad development plays out before making judgments on how it affects the writing quality.

There's an old Noragami theory that Father is Izanagi, or stole his power, and it's been mostly dismissed in recent years (but there's an echodrops post about it here if you're interested in the points it made) and even more so since we got snippets of his backstory, but I think it's worth bringing back up now. Izanagi has been suspiciously absent from the manga, and I'm not sure he's even been mentioned, so I wonder if the koto no ha ties into that somehow. Honestly if Izanami killed him in this version of the story and used his power to make the koto no ha, good for her.

Anyway, trash dad reveals he's not just some human who came back from the dead. He can use these powers of creation; it's unclear whether he's used them before, but Yato has never seen him do so--Mizuchi seems to know what he's doing, but it's also unclear whether she's seen it either. I said years ago I don't think it was easy as him just returning from the dead and being granted godlike powers, but I haven't been insistent on it so much because I did a reread of the official translation two years ago and that version heavily implies the only thing trash dad did to get his powers was come back from the dead. I wonder how they'll reconcile that when this volume gets translated (please hold for another 2 years, lmfao).

Is this Izanagi's power, or Izanami's? Did he steal Izanagi's powers next after he paid Izanami a visit? Did he know what using the koto no ha on himself would do? Was it an educated guess based on Izanami's power? Is it still possible he could be a reincarnated Izanagi that believed himself to be human? I don't know if I'd like that last one, but these are the questions I hope to have answered.

Taking a brief detour to discuss that Kiun and Mayu have joined forces to look for their gods, and Ookuninushi is alive but has with him three freshly reincarnated gods--Yatagarasu, Kagutsuchi, and Shinatsuhiko. I'm shocked he lived and they died, but it may lead to an interesting change in heaven where he has to reconcile how they threw away their shinki lives even after they were explicitly told not to use them. The way heaven (and most gods) treat their shinki as not people but disposable tools has been a long-running theme of this manga, and it's been clear larger-scale changes need to be made.

So back to the main event, trash dad creates a biblical sort of flood, but one that brings images of the past. Alongside the tree where a young Yato named Sakura, we also see a cottage and a multi-level house. The cottage may be where Yato and Hiiro were raised, or it might be the one from the Father flashbacks: Check them out side by side:

(103-2; page 1 [Father and Kaya village]; 104, page 21; 45, page 33 [Yato, Hiiro, Father cottage] if you want to check for yourself)

Next, there's that multi-story building, which could be the place where Yato made his first kills, or Hiyori's grandmother's house. There isn't much visible, so it's hard to tell, but here's another side by side:

(46, page 9 [where Yato made his first kills]; 104, page 21; 85, page 42 [Hiyori's grandmother's house])

If this enchanted world functions similarly to Hiyori viewing Yato's past while he's asleep, Hiyori will get to experience trash dad's past as it really happened. I've mentioned before it bothers me how the gravekeeper has been narrating the events even though he wasn't present for any of them, so it's entirely likely Father manipulated the facts of his history, or they naturally changed over the course of a thousand years.

I also think Hiyori could find out trash dad's weak point, his true name, if/when she witnesses his past. She could then become his lifeline and decide to let the secret die with her. Or he could possess her, but I'm being optimistic.

The tree she sees is the tree where Yato named Sakura, but it could also have some significance to Father and Kaya; if the cottage where he raised Yato and Hiiro was in the same general location as that village, he could have some memories there.

So if we get Hiyori and Sakura interaction I will cry. If we get Hiyori and Kaya interaction I will also cry.

Next few chapters I'm really excited to see where this enchanted lake dimension thing goes. Yukine could also be caught up in it, depending on how far it has spread, and it'll be interesting to see how Amaterasu reacts to it too.

I don't normally say this, but reblogs are appreciated. This post required a lot of skimming older chapters to tie my thoughts together, and my original draft got half erased when I was just finishing it up so I had to rewrite a lot of it. Plus it seems like everyone was pretty confused by the events of this chapter, so a reblog would help to spread it around and hopefully shed some light on the events. Thanks!

[asadgirlwithaprettymind]

the golden hour

[sprightlyspirit]

March 2023 🌷☀️🍓📚

[melonthesprigatito]

I learned what onomatopoeia was when Tigger sang it to annoy Rabbit in one of the Winnie the Pooh movies

[blinkbats]

God I had such a good time out in the woods this weekend. I felt so alive and so free and joyful I just kept thinking "I don't wanna hurt myself anymore!!! I wanna live!!!" over and over grinning like an idiot bc I haven't felt so bright and hopeful in months and months and months and months

[jewish-sideblog]

Shoutout to Mordechai and Esther for surviving a genocide attempt and deciding this time of the year belongs to joy. It would have been so easy to respond to that with anger or sadness or fear but instead they went. Oh. It’s springtime. It’s warm and nice and the flowers are blooming and the animals are out. And we are Alive. We should drink and celebrate and be happy. And all our people should drink and celebrate and be happy at this time of year for the rest of time. Real ones for that honestly

[hekateinhell]

Welcome, Armand lovers! I’m so excited it's finally time to share my little project with you! 🖤

From November 1 - December 5, I'll be hosting Good to Embrace, Good to Love, a fandom event celebrating Armand's relationships with his four greatest loves—Marius, Lestat, Louis, and Daniel—from the book series The Vampire Chronicles.

Each week will be dedicated to one of these ships, with a bonus week of prompts that can be used for some of the many others Armand has loved in his long immortal life i.e., Bianca, Nicolas, etc.

There will be two prompts per day: a quote from the books that represents an aesthetic of the ship + a word/sentence prompt. Do one, do both, combine them—it doesn't matter as long as you have fun!

AUs and genderswaps are more than welcome!

𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Submissions can include fic, art, meta, headcanons, graphics, playlists, crafts, whatever!

Submissions must focus on a romantic and/or sensual element of the ship. It is ship fest, after all!

Ship combinations (threesomes or more) are also welcome—you decide which week you want to post! For example: an Armand/Lestat/Louis fic can be posted either during Week 2 (Lestat) or Week 3 (Louis).

Bonus week prompts can be used for whatever Armand ship your heart desires! And if you want to use them for Marius, Lestat, Louis, or Daniel, go for it!

Tag your submissions #ArmandShipFest and I’ll do my best to reblog! 🖤

AO3 collection here!

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖙!

Day 1: “A blending of sadness and simple grace” / Love Affair with Damnation

Day 2: “You took my blood and it made you my slave” / Greedy Creature

Day 3: “I would have given all the world to see him white again, my marble god, my graven Father in our private bed.” / Paternal

Day 4: “My frankly carnal embraces” / Fateful Moment

Day 5: “I want to be a fool for you.” / Bruise

Day 6: “Be my challenger, be my questioner, be my bold and ungrateful pupil.” / Rebirth

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “Cinderella revealed at the ball” / Succubus

Day 2: “You break my heart, you little fool. You always did.” / Heartbreaker

Day 3: “Stinging insults and worshipful analyses” / Yearning

Day 4: “You look good to me, you damnable little devil” / Fatal Attraction

Day 5: “I wanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even more radiant than he was.” / Dress Up

Day 6: “I hate you as much as I have ever loved you.” / Enemies to Lovers or Lovers to Enemies

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “The only promise of good in evil of which I could conceive.” / Enchanted

Day 2: “You would yield to me now” / The Alluring Embodiment of Misery

Day 3: “I want you more than anything in the world.” / Evanescent Flush

Day 4: “A stranger to himself and to me.” / Withering Rose

Day 5: “To seek for grace once more” / Pillars of the Household

Day 6: “Elegant phantoms in our lace and velvet” / Flame

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “I like kissing. And snuggling with dead things” / Cold To The Touch

Day 2: “Let me be a lover in the Savage Garden with you” / Exquisite Monsters

Day 3: “The freedom, the power, and the luxury” / Million Dollar Man

Day 4: Dark-Eyed Cupid / Erotic Anguish

Day 5: “Say the word my love, I'll do it. We'll be in hell together after all.” / Unholy Consequences

Day 6: “There was never any innocence for us, there was never any springtime.” / Hunting In The Rain

Day 7: FREE DAY

Day 1: “These violent delights have violent ends”* / Cage

Day 2: “You look like an angel and hold forth like a tavern knave” / The Devil's Road

Day 3: “Not made by human hands” / Lotus

Day 4: “Yet he seems the naughty boy who mocks all things” / Careless Words

Day 5: “In the very depths of Hell, do demons not love one another?” / Home

Day 6: “Vile precocious child” / Drunk

Day 7: FREE DAY

*This is the only quote not directly lifted from the books, it’s taken from Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.

**a huge thank you to the lovely @apoptoses for the graphics, and to the Morzoi Girlies (gn) for assisting me with the prompts and always hyping me up! Love you lots. 🖤

[youcalledmebabe]

my favorite bits of web lore from parachute infantry:

he was a new deal democrat and voted for the first time during the war. “I had to walk almost 2 miles to cast my ballot, but I would have walked 10, if necessary, because this was my first vote—I was 22 in June—and I had always wanted to cast it for Roosevelt, the greatest president we had ever had, and the only one who ever gave the working man a break.”

he describes Doc Roe as having “a warm, brave heart.” has anybody ever considered webroe…? there’s about as much basis for it as webgott, historically speaking 💀

he seemed to have lone wolf tendencies. “Actually, I was quite happy to be on my own. Looking out for myself was something I always liked to do. It was the one thing I could do better than anybody else.” 

he was sooo dramatic. “I should have known better than to dream, for whatever dreams I might have had all ended when I was sixteen, and had run away to Gloucester to ship out on a fishing schooner. The schooners were diesel hulks, so I went back to school. That was the way my dreams always ended. The army was no different.”

noted fan of springtime. “It’s going to be an early spring, I thought, feeling a great relief. Maybe things will be better now; they are always better in the spring.”

believed in/was spooked by the stories of a ghost horse cart following them around the front. “It must be the ghost that’s followed us through Europe, I thought with a shiver, for the sound did not seem wholly real—who would have the nerve to walk a horse drawn wagon along the front in a city under such heavy artillery fire? …Some of the men used to speculate about it. They thought that it was the ghost of a supply cart that had gotten a direct hit, and that the driver was homesick for his old outfit. So every night he’d come back and visit his buddies on the line.” apparently Nixon also believed this… where my ghost story fics at?

allergic to change: “The essence of life is change, not stability, but I can’t get used to it; I want everything to stay the way it is.”

thinks the reason lieb is the way he is is because “he was from the far west.” he and joe actually have very little interaction at all and he doesn’t have much to say about him. Tom Hanks rpf is fine strikes again

was drunk on iced tea and gin all the time at the end of the war

gets so mad about doing a final parade when his points came through that he “was in a mood to bayonet babies and roast both colonels over small fires.” immediately after that says what he “planned for peacock was unprintable.” this is the final time peacock is mentioned… guess they never made up

he really hated the army and the Nazis in a way that I feel like the show dropped by the final episode. like I think the real web would’ve shot the guy on the mountain. but that’s a discussion I’d like to have later

anyway he was smart and funny and a good writer and so full of life and i’m very sad about what happened to him

[sister-lucifer]

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

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[eden-djarin]

The Rain Song - Chapter 1 "Spring"

Summary: You met Joel Miller by chance. Getting on his good side isn't easy, but maybe with the help of Ellie, you can get closer to him.

Word Count: 1.2K

Pairing: Pre-Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader , Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Chapter Warnings: no physical description of reader, mild angst, sadness, reader is bad at expressing emotions, unspecified age gap, Joel has a hard time being nice

A/N : This is my first time trying to write a longer chapter/multi-chapter fic, so I hope y'all like it. Also, very minor proofreading lol :) - Eden

It is the springtime of my loving The second season I am to know You are the sunlight in my growing

You had met Joel Miller in the springtime. Everywhere you looked, blazing stars and milkweed were blooming due to the newfound warmth in the air. Budding leaves on new branches filled the trees around you.  The pastures were green, and the meadows had a gold spilling through them.  Too busy finding some peace in the day, you hadn’t noticed that two unexpected strangers were coming up on your back.

Your soon-to-be friends hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings, that is until the man heard you humming to yourself. He quickly grabbed the girl, shoved her behind his back, and put his finger up to his mouth, silencing her before she could say anything out loud.  The man reached for his gun, silently cocking back the weapon.

“Hands up,” the man yelled loud enough for you to hear through your humming

Quickly turning around, immediately lifting your hands into the air, you yelled back, “I’m unarmed! I only have a small tactical knife in my back pocket!”

As your hands remained in the air, Joel immediately started walking towards you, grabbing your hands and placing them behind your back, searching you for any weapons. He found the knife that you had put in your back pocket and chucked it to the ground, well out of your reach.

After he was convinced, you weren’t any harm to him or the girl, he let you go and asked, “What would a young girl like you be doin’ in the woods all alone? Hmm?”

You had escaped the Chicago QZ about a month ago. It was a last option for you, finally having enough of the constant abuse you had endured. You were not sure where you were planning to go.

“I left the Chicago QZ. I thought it would be better to be by myself than with people who didn’t care for me or my well-being.” You stated.

Finally being able to turn around and look at the people who had bum-rushed you, you could see that it was a man in his mid-50s, tall, and stocky. There was also a smaller girl, who barely looked more than 14.

Allowing yourself to have some courage, you asked the new people what their names were and where they were going.

“I’m Ellie! This is Joel. We’re going to- “Ellie was silenced by the older man immediately, him not wanting you to find out where they were going.

“Where we’re goin has no concern to this young lady, Ellie. Now, if we could be on our way. “Joel tossed you a quick side glance, not wanting you to bother them any more than you already had.

Silence was something you were good at. Staring back at them, you could tell that Ellie didn’t mind you tagging along, but Joel didn’t want you to be a burden on their team. Ellie started talking to Joel in a hushed tone, not allowing you to hear the full conversation. Joel kept glancing back and forth at you and Ellie, not wanting to back down from his previous statement.

Looking fully at you, Joel stated, “You can come along. You better not cause any problems, or we’re gonna have issues.”

Running towards them and silently thanking Ellie for putting up a fight for you to join them on their journey, you started along the path to wherever they were going together. As you start to walk away with them, you mumble under your breath, telling them your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Learning to be around others for longer than a few days is deemed to be more difficult than you had initially thought. Joel was hard to read. He didn’t trust you, and you could tell. He was always around when you were with Ellie, to the point where you were a little scared to be the real you. You never intended to harm anyone. Battling with your past, you thought it best to be quiet, and not try to set Joel off.

Ellie was great at breaking the mood. Always telling her jokes, was a way for you to take your mind off Joel and his brooding stature. Joel would joke along with Ellie, but he would never give you the time of day.

Being alone at night was the hardest part for you. You weren’t truly alone, but you felt far away from any resemblance of friendship, or trust with the man that laid ten feet away from you. Turning to face the opposite way of Joel and Ellie, allowed you to finally let yourself feel your flood of emotions that had been bottling up all day.

As you silently sniffled to yourself, trying to get comfortable in your sleeping bag, Joel turned over to look at you. He hadn’t noticed before how you would turn yourself away to not look in his and Ellie’s direction. He knew he was being harsh to you. He was not easy to trust others, and you unexpectedly coming into their lives was certainly not what he wanted. Secretly, for the past few months, you were growing on him. He loved that it was easy for you to get along with Ellie, and it seemed like Ellie liked you too.

Quietly, Joel whispered, “Everything alright?”

Freezing in your spot on the ground, you whispered back, “Yeah, everything is fine. Just a little cold I guess.”

Joel didn’t take that as an answer. Getting out of his sleeping bag, he walked in front of you and saw your red eyes and runny nose. Going to sit on the ground, he lowered his knees to the ground, making a slight popping noise. “I know you’re upset. I know I'm cold to ya. ‘S not my intention. I’m just tryin’ my best to protect Ellie. Ya get it, right?”

“I suppose.” You said while looking up at him blankly.

“If you want, I can sit with you for a while if you want. I know it can be a little scary being in the woods for a while with nobody else around.” Said Joel, while looking into your eyes.

“If you want. I don’t want to be a bother. I promise.” Starting to close your eyes again.

Joel moves to lie down next to you on the ground. Willing his heart to slow down a bit, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You fell asleep surprisingly fast with Joel there, and Joel fell asleep within mere moments.

Ellie woke first in the morning, looking to see if both of you were still there. When she fully looked at you and Joel, you had moved to where your head rested upon Joel’s chest, and his arm was wrapped around your waist. Ellie chuckled to herself, laughing about how this whole time, Joel seemed like he could care less about you, but Ellie knew. Ellie could sense how he was starting to change his thoughts about you, even though Joel was not aware himself.

So little warmth I've felt before It isn't hard to feel me glowing I watched the fire that grew so low, oh

[hiebies]

your shining autumn (blue green, colours flashing)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; nanami drabble because i miss him

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairing; nanami -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist

the warmth of the sun is penetrating. a warm morning that transitions the day smoothly into a balmy afternoon, an ache soothed by the chill of the breeze. all in all, the day is as it usually is- perfectly pleasant.

the warmth of the room seeps into your bones, stretching through one body and into another, two lovers curled up together and bathed by sunlight. it crawls into the space, sugary sweet and clinging to scattered dust particles reflected in beams of light.

“oh- sorry, do you want me to move off your arm?”

the echoing voice is quiet, a melody playing in a minor key that cuts through the sun and the warmth, drawing all attention in the room to a sharp focus.

“it’s okay,” the lovers move in tandem, connected by sunlight and warmth and each other, “just- turn over, or hold my hand instead?”

laughter briefly echos when both come close to toppling from their perch on the couch, resting place disturbed, only to again be settled like falling leaves- as easy a transition as the changing of seasons.

“did you know, that you have very nice hands?”

a murmur of agreement, voice joining its partner and bathing both lovers in the silence that follows. a thumb skips over the crease of a palm, tracing calluses and old scars, nothing untouched or unseen. to be loved is to be seen.

“this one is your lifeline- did you know that? no? hm.. it’s a long one.”

“it’s just a line on my hand.”

“a very important line that means you’re stuck with me for a very long time, dear.”

tired eyes glint and a slow smile stretches wide, laugh catching on the amusement caused by such a statement.

‘a long time, hm?’

“..are you listening to me? i was saying that i managed to get a good deal on those flights to malaysia, and here you are spacing out on me!”

a hand carding through honey coloured hair, twisting through strands usually combed back; contained, controlled, neatly into a box for later on. it settles, pulled like a magnet to the body against his front, the warmth.

he is a flower in the care of a cautious gardener, and in turn he blooms, radiant like the spring.

“my apologies dear, tell me more?”

but when the springtime ends, do not all brilliant blooms begin to wilt?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; it is officially october 2024 and, wow, getting broken up with is so not fun! however, apparently being sad makes me finally get inspo to write, that’s indeed interesting! anyways, this is rusty, but i miss nanami and writing so this is what we all get c:

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ hiebies 2024 ©

[asadgirlwithaprettymind]

spring has sprung 🌼

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

deancas first kiss, s12 au. For @deancaskiss, belatedly 🎂🎉

When Cas came back into the cabin with their bags, Dean was fiddling with a radio on a bedside table. An energetic fiddle reel disintegrated into static which was replaced with a loud voice proclaiming that many, many fine and upstanding cars were on sale for low, low, bottom basement prices--

"Enough of that," Dean said, and snapped off the radio.

"Has something happened?" Cas dropped the bags on the rather well used couch and tuned all his attention to Dean.

"No, no. I'm fine and dandy." Dean wiped his eyes, which Cas was horrified to see were a little red, a little wet.

"Are you sure?" Cas crossed the small room and laid a hand in the crook of Dean's arm. 

Dean went still, looking back at him, before taking a breath. "Just a sad old country song on the radio." His voice sounded funny and it made Cas's chest ache. 

"Okay." Cas pulled back his hand. 

"I'm really fine." Dean's expression brightened as he looked past Cas to the window. "I think there's enough time for a walk before it's completely dark out. Wanna go with?"

"Of course," Cas said sincerely. 

Dean went still again, like he was surprised at Cas's agreeing to accompany him. He broke the eye contact with a small laugh, as though he was embarrassed about something. There was a light flush across the tops of his cheeks. It was incredibly attractive, and that, Cas knew, was not something that was to be mentioned.

"Sam says he and Mary should arrive in another hour," Cas told Dean a while later, after his phone had buzzed in his pocket. 

Dean nodded and kept staring out over the little lake behind the cabins. They'd taken the pebble trail that ringed the lake like a dirty pearl necklace and were seated on a big rock roughly the shape of horseshoe. Cas wished for a bit more cushioning and a less sharp breeze, but otherwise felt content. If he concentrated he could sense the warmth of Dean's body; he tried not to lean over towards it like a flower seeking sunlight.

The actual sun had drooped behind a bank of scraggly cypress and maples not yet in full leaf, their springtime samaras an almost purple hue in the fading daylight. The choppy water of the lake made clickety, whispery noises. A nuthatch in a nearby oak was either despondent or desirous, or both, and Cas felt a kinship.

"What was the song about?" he decided to ask.

Dean smiled, briefly. "Home."

"Oh." Cas waited.

"Nope, that's it, nothing else to it." Dean elbowed him. "Song just caught me the wrong way."

"The lyrics," Cas guessed.

"Yeah." Dean gave him a rueful look. "Guess I'm a little homesick too. Which is silly."

"I don't think so," Cas said. "These last couple of cases -- well, it's been nearly two weeks since we were back at the bunker."

Dean shook his head. "Sometimes home isn't so much a place-- Though I do miss our washing machine and dryer and the water pressure in the showers." He cleared his throat. "But that's not the point."

"A feeling of home," Cas started to work out. "It's about who you're with when you're there, I suppose."

"Exactly." Dean looked away. "And the thing is, I've been with my family these last two weeks. So that's been great."

"Except for the beatings," Cas posited. "And the beheadings."

Dean snorted. "Except for those."

"Despite those," Cas said, "I've enjoyed spending time with you and Sam and Mary."

"I'm glad you've been with us." Dean looked out over the water again and shivered. "I'm glad you're coming home with us too," he said quietly.

Something heavy and thorned curled in Cas's throat, for reasons he couldn't quite explain; it took him a moment to respond. "Well. So am I." His phone buzzed twice, sounding even more startled than he felt. He thumbed open the screen display and squinted at the text. "Sam says they had to detour off of I-70 and there's a bad storm moving in. They're going to try to find a room and hunker down for the night. Mary has a lead on another werewolf pack, if we want to meet them near Wamego tomorrow."

"That'd work," Dean said.

Cas sent a couple of texts and Sam sent back a thumbs up emoji.

Dean shivered again and hunched into his jacket a bit.

"We should go back to the cabin." Cas stood up and stretched while his lower back applauded his efforts. "Get you warmed up."

He hadn't meant to say something provocative; but Dean's eyes had gone dark as he watched him. 

"You stash a tropical beach in one of our bags when I wasn't looking?" Dean asked, his expression changing to one of amusement so quickly Cas almost blinked.

You've been imagining things, Cas told himself. Wishful thinking isn't reality. The weight in his throat widened, scratched.

"No," he managed to say. "But I'm sure the cabin has blankets…" He trailed off as the humor in Dean's face faded to something soft and steady, that earlier stillness concentrated, giving off its own heat.

Cas found himself corralled into the v of Dean's legs, Dean holding him at the hip with his hand as he traced the outline of Cas's lower lip with his thumb. Cas didn't need to take a breath except yes he did; and either way, Dean was standing and then his mouth was on Cas's and Cas realized how lonely starvingly cold both of them had been, how chilled by the breeze and the nightfall and the years of distance that suddenly, thankfully, no longer existed between their bodies.

The first kiss became the second became the third. There would be more and more, Cas thought, dazed at the sound of Dean's gentle groan as he let Dean slip inside. It was so much better, kissing Dean, than Cas had ever let himself picture or pretend it could be. When they finally paused, for a minute, they leaned against each other and took shaky breaths and smiled, tentative and hushed. They walked back to the cabin and locked themselves in for the night. They made good use of the blankets and the rather well used couch. 

"Is this what people mean by 'making themselves at home'?" Cas asked once, and Dean grinned and pulled him back into bed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ordinary Day

Isn’t it nice weather? Let’s take a short stroll and enjoy it.

This is part 16 of 20. We come close to the conclusion.

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 | Part 15

Information has a way of spreading by word of mouth. Without a form, there is nothing to restrain them from travel, and from the details straying from the truth. By the end of the school day, Kon has already picked up on at least seven variations of the same story.

The disappearance of one Raven Crowley, and the aftermath of it.

She hadn’t attended class for some time now, hadn’t shown her face in public. A wind blew through the grapevine, supposed tea brewing. 

“I think she transferred. Didn’t really fit in here anyway. Probably at some all-girls place now.”

“No, no, she’s being homeschooled for safety reasons. The headmaster keeps her locked away in that tower and personally tutors her.” 

“I heard she’s dead. She Overblotted and went on a rampage in the woods. The dorm leaders had to suppress her and collect the body afterwards.”

He grips onto his textbooks harder, fingers digging into the leather-bound cover and spine. Kon is always anxious, but the whispers tug at his nerves, pulling them taut.

It doesn’t come from a place of concern, he knows. Gossip is gossip, meant to amuse and entertain. 

He wonders if he should confront them, ask them to stop--if they’d even listen to his pleas. 

Because no one wants a story’s end to be as sad as that…

Instead, he ducks behind a column and waits for the chattering group to pass. The debate grows heated, turns into betting and rough housing. Ugly, unpleasant sounds.

The thought occurs to him again. If he tries…

“Are you going to say something?”

Kon startles at the sudden question. 

He senses a figure beside him, but is too frozen with fear to turn his head, to see who it is.

From his periphery, he can glean glimpses of them. Auburn waves threaded with gold, a frilled gown colored as green as the springtime. A soft voice to belong to one of the rowdy mobs. It’s sweet yet flat, like a soda without the carbonation.

Who is this…?

His mouth won’t move to utter what he wants it to. 

“No? You won’t?” they ask. “Ah, you choose to observe then. You are wiser than you would appear to be. A story is just meant to be witnessed. To involve oneself is to meddle. The impartiality, ruined.”

Shock dislodges the knot in his throat. “Wh-What are you saying? The rumors floating around… I don’t think anyone would want that.”

“Talk is what they have, so they relish in it.  Action is difficult. Very few manage to scale the tower to witness the truth for with their own eyes. The chosen, the worthy.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

There is a scoff.

“Perhaps not now, but in the future you may.”

He sees a hand extend, cupping the sunlight. It is sheathed in a billowing green sleeve, nothing like the NRC school uniforms.

“This is a day like any other. Please enjoy the mundaneness to its fullest. We do not know for certain how long this peace will stay with us.”

“You’re not a student,” Kon says weakly. Already, he is sweating up a waterfall on his forehead. “Who are you?”

In the response, a slight smile.

“Just a visitor passing through. Pay me no mind.”

“’Scuse me! Sorry! Comin’ through!”

A ghost outfitted in a mailman’s uniform weaves his way through the hallways of Octavinelle. He doesn’t so much as go around students as he was fazing through them. The only trace of him left behind is a slight chill in the torso, like an ice flower has just melted there.

The mail ghost launches itself through the Mostro Lounge doors.

It’s a busy night.

Students are seated at the booths and at the bar. Friends with friends, soaking up jazz and the aquatic ambience. Plates of seafood and colorful drinks, served under glowing jellyfish.

The conversation flows like water.

“They shipped her off to a lab to get tested. Or maybe she got kidnapped.”

“Nah, she’s in hiding somewhere.”

“She opened up a portal to another world and hopped into it.”

From the podium up front, Jade bows to the mail ghost.

“Welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guest,” he greets. “I’m afraid we are fully booked at the moment, so if you wish for a table, you will have to come back in 45 minutes’ time. Though--” Jade eyes the bag of mail hanging from the ghost’s body. “--I suppose dining was not in the cards from the start.”

“Just here for the usual mail delivery.” He reaches into his bag and produces several envelopes, fanning them out.

“Thank you for your service as always. I will receive them for Azul.”

The exchange is made, and the mail ghost continues on his route.

As soon as he vanishes, Jade allows his smile to relax.

The merman begins going through the envelopes. It’s a distraction, but preferable to paying mind to the swirling hearsay. It will only make him irritable.

Plain white, mostly bills or spam mail and advertisements. Hardly anything worth gracing their dorm leader’s desk.

Azul.

Jade frowns.

Since Azul had been whisked away to the emergency meeting, he has been more alert than usual. Jade notices it in the subtleties. His breaths, his glances, the way his fingers drum.

Whatever happened that day, it still bothers him.

He had “spoken” with the other dorm leaders, of course—but none of them knew much, not even Kalim, who claimed to have found her. “Not sure why she was in the woods, but all that matters is that she’s okay now. Maybe she just wandered and got lost?”

Wandering and lost. Those were apt descriptors for how she had looked that night she had stumbled into him. She was haunted then, small and shuddering in the glaring moonlight.

Jade dislikes not knowing, dislikes being kept in the dark.

He barely bats an eyelash until he comes to the final envelope. It doesn’t look like the others, with their formal business addresses and postage. Pitch black, with golden embellishes.

His name is written on it.

In handwriting that makes his heart stop.

“... What is this?”

He tears it open at once, retrieving the letter inside.

Jade,

I realize receiving this may be awkward, given our history. However, I still hope it finds you well.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting about many things. Our time together, our relationship... and also about myself and what it is that I’m seeking.

I haven’t been very brave or honest. I think I can admit that now, though it doesn’t leave me feeling good. It’s like when a baby bird first hatches from its egg. It can’t quite see the world clearly, and nor does it have feathers to shield its vulnerable body from the forces of nature.

I have something important to tell you. Too important to scrawl on paper. It must be said face-to-face.

The apple tree in the courtyard is in bloom. It’s so very beautiful this time of year. I wish I could stare at them forever and ever. In the language of flowers, apple blossoms can mean many things. Love, peace, rebirth, good luck... a long life too.

Let’s meet there, in the shade of the apple tree and under the cover of stars.

Tomorrow, right before the stroke of midnight.

I will give you my answer then.

Best regards,

Raven Crowley

Life at Night Raven College continues.

A single cog it may lack, but the mechanism continues to churn. There is a spot in the core that is empty, where the missing cog belongs. Still, the machine operates without its heart.

Another day comes and goes.

And in the highest room of the tallest tower...

Something goes bump in the dark.

Someone stirs.

[inexplicablepeas]

OK another Night Island detail I noticed but this one's sad. 🙁

He could almost hear the great roar of the dancing fountains, see the long narrow beds of daffodils and tulips blooming eternally out of season…

Daffodils and tulips, spring blooming flowers, but in constant bloom. Guys he's literally trying to create a permanent spring time for them, but THERE NEVER WAS ANY SPRINGTIME. 🫢😭😭😭